


Three Exiles

by BardicRaven



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Actions and Words mean Love, Bromance, Grey areas, Love, Loyalty, M/M, Multi, Romance is more than sex, what is love?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 03:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12498092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardicRaven/pseuds/BardicRaven
Summary: Three exiles have come to learn that together, they are no longer alone.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverminetohold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/gifts).



Then there is the story of the exile who was a good tailor, a good spy, a good patriot, and yet... and yet... and yet. A good friend to those who were exiled with him, despite the way that a part of him told him that he was not being a good spy nor a good patriot to be so.

The exile with so many unanswered questions: What use was his training now? What use was all the years of torment in a too-cold station, the only one of his kind, spat-upon and looked at with suspicion by all - even those who were ostensibly his kin-by-species? What was the point of it all now? Cardassia had lost, and with it, so had he. It was useless, worse than useless, to pretend otherwise, and yet here he was, freezing and alone. Terribly alone.

Until he was not.

Then the golden exile - sent far from home to learn of the world, only to be forced to choose between those he'd learned to care for and those who were like him. Endlessly mutable and yet forever unchanging. Clinging to his codes of justice like the lifeline they were, he overcame prejudice and misunderstanding to become a guardian for the people who’d once put him in a jar labelled ‘Unknown Sample’.

Revered by all for his impartial allegiance to the law, he found his place in between the others – forever apart, and yet one of them.

Until there were those who gave him more.

Finally, the human, also set apart, also exiled, tho' harder to notice. Artificially augmented by forbidden means, he learned to weave his way through the world nonetheless. To use what had been done to him to make his way in the world, to achieve a level of excellence that led him to a space-station out on the edges of Federation space, and to two beings who, while outwardly far different, inwardly, shared a heart between them, the passion of devotion to their careers, to what those careers meant.

To each other and all the similarities and differences. All the challenges and possibilities.

Three exiles. A band of brothers and more-than-brothers on a station at the edge of Federation space. Bound by love and loyalty, here, among themselves, to each other, they were exiles no more.


	2. What’s in a Name? And a Form?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odo is given a gift. And gives one in return.  
> Or, the only ones who can use his first-given name.

There was nothing to do but wait. A miscalculation and the cave entrance had caved. Communication was blocked, thanks to tons of iron-nickel rock, but it had been known where they were going, so rescue was only a matter of time.

Short enough to be unconcerning. Long enough to allow a delicate situation.

Odo’s skin started to flow, just a little. Nothing major, just the tiniest loss of cohesion. He ignored it, refusing to give in to the necessity. 

But Nature would not be denied, and eventually, the changes became enough that the others noticed.

“Odo? Are you all right?” Bashir asked quietly.

“Yes.” The word was clipped, but Bashir could hear what was behind it - discomfort and… shame. 

He let it go. One of the things they’d all learned early was when to respect the need for distance, for privacy.

But the ripples kept getting worse, and when Odo continued to say nothing, eventually it got to be too much. Making a big show of looking at his chronometer, Julian said matter-of-factly. “It’s time for you to rest, isn’t it, Odo?”

“I’m fine.” The tone sharp, warning.

“No, you’re not.” His tone in return, firm, professional. “With respect, Odo, you need to change every eighteen hours, whether you like it or not. Refusing to acknowledge what is true isn’t going to help you or anyone else.”

Odo glared at him for a moment before his shoulders slumped. “Yes, I need to change. But there’s no place to do so safely, so I’m not going to permit it.”

“And you’ll hurt yourself.”

Before Julian could continue, Garak’s voice interrupted them. “Here. You can change here.” Odo and Julian turned to see Garak sitting on the ground, his jacket spread out over his lap.

Julian shrugged. “We need to stop for the night anyway. It might as well be here.”

Odo took a moment, deciding, be3fore he nodded, said a gruff “Thank you,” and flowed into Garak’s lap as he let his humanoid form go in favor of his Founder’s free-flowing body.

Julian found himself a semi-comfortable spot along a wall and settled down himself. Eventually Bashir drifted off to sleep. Garak stayed awake, the force of long, harshly-trained habit.

“Odo,” he quietly addressed the gelatinous golden mass in his lap. “Odo’Ital. They named you for ‘nothing’. But that’s not true, is it? You are everything. To the others.” Quieter still. “To me.”

There was a slight ripple, as if Odo stirred in his sleep, and Garak’s voice fell silent. After a moment, the ripple faded as well, and the night went on.

The next day, Odo pulled Garak aside. “I heard what you said. Last night.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Breezy as ever, the charming epitome of misdirection.

A thin smile. “I think you do. And I just wanted to say… thank you.” A pause, then, “You matter to me as well.”

A slight nod was all the answer Garak gave him, but for those who knew how to read, it would be enough.

It was enough.


	3. Of Love and Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wire had a child, a last-ditch attempt at life.

The damn thing had had a child. That was the only way Julian Bashir could think of it. They’d thought that they’d broken the thing before, but apparently not. Or rather, they had, but in so doing, allowed it to have one last gasp at life.

In any case, it had struck one day, short and sharp and so debilitating that they’d had to transport Garak to the infirmary, where he now lay, still in pain despite the best that Federation pharmacology could offer. 

Both Odo and Julian stayed by his side every moment that they could. For love, for loyalty, and… just in case. How much pain could one body take? How many years of exile before that body cried ‘enough!’?

Neither one was sure how much Garak noticed of their presence – much of the time, he was elsewhere, talking to people not in the room, twitching as the pain stabbed through the medication.

But one day he roused enough to ask snappishly, “Why are you here? Don’t you have more important things to do?”

Neither one allowed the tone to get to them. They knew Garak better than that. Like most predators, when he seemed the most independent was when he needed someone the most. They knew that he would cover his pain, his need, to the death if need be.

So Odo merely said, “I have deputies monitoring the station. They’ll tell me if there’s anything I need to tend to.”

And Julian replied simply “You are my patient, Garak. My place is here.”

Garak glared at them with pained exasperation. “You want me to stay, don’t you?”

“Yes.” One word from two throats.

“Why?” And that was it, the uncomfortable, awkward question.

The ultimate question.

A question with far more to it than it would first appear.

Silence, as the two gathered their thoughts. Finally, Bashir broke the silence. “Because I care about you.”

“You care about all your patients.” Dismissive, short, cold.

“Ye-es,” Bashir replied, drawing on years of patience, of knowing both Garak and every other patient he’d had who’d lashed out in pain of body and soul. “yes, I do. But you are more than just a patient to me. And as much as you want an excuse to be able to die, I’m not going to give it to you.”

“Nor I,” came Odo’s gravelly voice. “You matter to me as well. That night…in the cave... you said I meant everything to you. Did you mean it?”

Garak gave an angry huff and turned his head away. Finally, ‘Yes, damn you both. I meant it.” He turned back to them. “And I’ll stay. For you.”

“Thank you,” came two voices in unison.

“Don’t thank me yet. My people are very good at what they do.” He caught their eyes each in turn. “I’ll fight. But it doesn’t guarantee I’ll win.”

They nodded acceptance of his words, but they also knew that he would win, if they had anything to say about it.

And they did. The power of love and loyalty is a mighty power indeed, and they knew it, just as they knew that they would do everything they could to ensure that power carried the day and carried Garak back to them.

He would win. They would win.

Of this, they were sure.


	4. When a Doctor is not enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Doctor Bashir can't save them all.

It had been both quick and long, these deaths, and unbearably ugly in any case. It had started out so simply: A Guarite family-trader, come into DS9 both for repairs and because the station was the next stop on their hardscrabble route. Doing a routine check of the family revealed a lethal dose of radiation in their bodies – most probably due to equipment failure caused by a hard choice between maintenance and the ability to get to the next stop on their route. One look at the readings showed that it was instantly obvious both that there was nothing that could be done and that trying to transport them to somewhere deeper in Federation territory – one with more facilities, a higher access to Federation medicine – would be both useless and cruel.

There was nothing to be done but break the news, remove the radiation from their bodies so that they were no danger to anyone else on the station, and set them up in a guest suite that would be their last home.

The deaths were quick, relatively speaking, a matter of months, but long enough that Bashir had gotten to know them all. Care for them all, as people, not just patients. And he took it harder with each passing, each sign that, once again, he was not enough to save those he cared about.

He knew that, logically, there was no way he’d ever be – that anyone could be. But emotionally, the part that saw him through his day, that gave him the fire and spirit that drove him to be the best, to help all that he could, that part said otherwise.

So after the last family member had passed, a child of no more than six, who was supposed to have been the next generation to sail the stars in the family ship, selling and trading out on the edges of the frontier, and instead slipped away quietly on a different journey, held in his arms to ease their passing, Julian went back to his office and sat while behind him, the body was prepared to join with the others to be sent home to their homeworld, to be treated as per their customs once there. 

Just another day. Just another death. The fact that it was far more than that not allowed to matter.

So Julian sat in his office, alone. Just sat. He didn’t trust himself to move, just yet. There were reports to be written, transport to be requested, all the paperwork that accompanied a death. But not yet. Right now, movement meant that he might lose what control he still had – over himself, over the situation – and right now, that felt like it would be too much to bear.

He jumped as the door *whooshed^ open. “What?” he asked tiredly.

A hand on his shoulder, and Bashir looked up to see Odo, a look of concern on his oddly-unfinished face. “I heard,” was all he said, but it was enough.

Julian nodded, not trusting himself to say any more. 

“And I’m sorry.” He pulled up a chair, sat, not breaking the physical contact. It was one thing that humans and Founders shared – the need for physical contact, the comfort such contact brought.

Julian nodded again, took a deep, shuddering breath, then spoke. “They were such good people. They didn’t deserve something like this. But it doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter. They made the wrong choice – an understandable choice – and they ended up dying, slowly, horribly.” He shook his head angrily. “What’s the point? What’s the point of my even being here? When when it matters most, I can’t do anything?”

“Because there are other times you do.” They both looked up to see Garak in the doorway. He entered the room, pulled up another chair so they were in a rough triangle beside Bashir’s desk. Garak sat, silent for a moment as he collected his thoughts. “I am living proof that there are times when you do make a difference. You saved me when I had no hope – twice. So grieve –” and their eyes met in shared sorrow “But remember the other times too. Because the station needs you.” A pause, a breath that said this next was hard, “I need you.”

They sat in silence for a while, just breathing together, being together, letting the silence and the peace of simple company bring a healing. The absence of being needed a suspiciously blessed event that Julian suspected had Odo to thank for it. Then, “Let’s go to your quarters, Julian,” Odo said softly. “It’s not good to grieve alone.”

He nodded, rose. Held out his hands to the two of them, clasping their hands in his - skin on scale, on gel-made-form. “Thank you,” he said, before releasing them and leading the way out into the Promenade and home.

Then later, after drinks and words and shared camaraderie, when Garak and Odo made to go, Julian held out his hands. “Stay. Please,” he said. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

And they sat and the evening went on, and if it became something more along the way, it is not for us to know or to intrude. But what is true is that three exiles were once again reminded that, for whatever was true in the rest of their lives, here, now, they were not alone.

And that was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. A deeper look - at myself, at the whys - and then, this story.
> 
> I hope you like it.
> 
> Fandom Growth Exchange Yulegoat


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